


Even If He Had Nothing Else

by victory_painted_on_my_skin



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Even when I had nothing I had Bucky, M/M, Poetry, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 10:03:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6653437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victory_painted_on_my_skin/pseuds/victory_painted_on_my_skin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poem inspired by Steve's line in Winter Soldier: "Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky." And my pre-Civil War Stucky feels.<br/> </p><p>  <i>Some days are crippling:</i><br/><i>knuckles wrapped and slammed–</i><br/><i>one, two–against worn, navy leather;</i><br/><i>hard enough to sting and smart and punish</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Even If He Had Nothing Else

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Captain America or the MCU. If I did, Stucky would be officially canon.

Some days are madness:  
quaking with thunderous voices  
tumbling with dog piles and laughter  
fistfights and lightening and adrenaline  
waltzing through red-blue veins.  
Too busy to think.  
Tumbled about in a roaring wave  
of the new strange noise  
of this new strange world.  
A buzz in his ears and his head  
that drowns out the silence  
in his heart. 

Everyday is settled  
by charcoaled hands and a face he cannot forget. 

Some days are comfortable:  
warm dawn light peeking through  
soft blue curtains and fluttering eyelids.  
Food in the kitchen and hot coffee and  
familiar music dancing in his ears.  
Wrapped in quiet.  
Seeking out all the secret places  
in this new Brooklyn  
which still feel like home.  
An old, worn blanket tucked snug  
around an old, quiet soul  
caught in time. 

Everyday is a search  
for that song he used to find in his smile. 

Some days are crippling:  
knuckles wrapped and slammed–  
one, two–against worn, navy leather;  
hard enough to sting and smart and punish,  
running from the nightmares he caused.  
Or thinks he did.  
Scrubbing at the blood staining  
broad, shaking hands;  
sins no one else can see.  
That final scream echoing in blue eyes  
falling, falling, falling  
away from him. 

Everyday is a story  
told to the soft whisper of his name.

Some days are okay days,  
but everyday is a reminder that  
Even if he had nothing else,  
he needs Bucky.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoy writing it! Please feel free to let me know what your favorite part was. :)


End file.
